The Seer's Child

Goddess of the Lake

Authors note-

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy my story. I'm having a lot of fun researching the medieval period and I hope I do justice to bringing this world alive. For anyone interested, I'll include some historical notes at the end of the story.

Since this story is an entry into the Open Novella contest, I aim to meet all deadlines with frequent updates.

As many of my characters are Gaelic, some of their names may be tricky to pronounce so as those characters are introduced, I'll include a phonetic reference at the beginning of those chapters.

Names-

Fiadh- Fee-ah
Tualla- Tool-ah

Scotland- 786 AD

Fiadh dropped to her hands and knees, digging her fingers into the packed soil in front of the hearth as another scream tore from out of her. When the pain subsided, she clutched her swollen abdomen. "Something's wrong," she said between pants. "It's too hard." 

In the fire's glow, Dena could see beads of sweat gathering on her sister's forehead. She pushed the hair back from Fiadh's face. "You can do this," Dena said with more resolve than she felt. "You're strong." 

But Dena had helped enough women to know Fiadh was right. She'd been in labour for the best part of the day now and things were slowing down. But it was more than that. Even without sharing her sister's gift of sight, she could feel it in the air; something heavy, almost suffocating.

Trying to make her sister more comfortable, Dena grabbed some straw, placing it under Fiadh's head. As Dena got up to get a bowl of water, Fiadh rolled onto her side, revealing a crimson stain spreading across her skirts.

Fiadh didn't have much time. Seeing her sister exhausted and growing weaker by the minute, Dena had never felt so helpless.
Her hands shook as she filled the bowl. She took a deep breath to steady herself before returning to Fiadh's side. Using a damp rag, she wiped Fiadh's face, hoping the cool water would offer her some relief. 

"What's wrong?" Fiadh asked, her voice weak and hoarse.

"Nothing," Dena replied, forcing a smile. Fiadh had always been the strong one. If Fiadh didn't have much time left— Gods! How that thought pained her— Dena had to be strong for her. She wouldn't cry, not now, not in front of Fiadh.

"I'm dying." 

Dena couldn't hide anything from her. How could she when Fiadh had been blessed with the gift of sight? Unable to admit it out loud, Dena nodded while staring into the fire.

"And my baby." Fiadh ran a hand over her bump. "I can feel her dying too." 

"Yes," Dena said, her voice almost cracking. "She'll die if she's not born soon." 

"The lake," Fiadh said.

"What?" Dena set the bowl down, confused. 
"We have to get to lake Dìonach." 

Dena's mind raced. Although she'd witnessed the rituals many times before, she'd never been the one to perform it. Would she even be able to? 

Fiadh grabbed Dena's wrist and stared at her with a fierce determination. "We have to do this." 

Nodding her head, Dena got to her feet, brushing the straw and dirt from her tunic. The journey ahead would take at least an hour and Fiadh wasn't in any state to walk.

Dena made her way to a fenced-off section at the back of the room. A few chickens roosted up high. She walked by the pig, goats and sheep. She reached up, grabbing a yoke and traces from above the cattle pen and fitted them over the head of her strongest oxen. She led him to a small wooden cart outside the house and secured the traces to it.